"These writer chaps are queer birds. You might get faint, but you can fight it. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. The militia were in already. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door.
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